100th Annual Hunger Games Panem's 4th Quarter Quell
by Gewhana
Summary: This quarter quell, exactly 25 years after the original president Snow killed the mockingjay and destroyed the rebellion, the Capitol is up for a special treat. With new mutants and a mysterious arena, how will the tributes survive? Who will die and who will live? **OPEN SYOT**
1. SYOT UPDATE

**Hey guys! So far, from yesterday, I have three amazing tribute submits! I still need tributes from districts:**

Eight-Both

Nine- Female

Ten-Both

Eleven-Male

**As soon as I have both tributes from one district, I'll do that reaping, and I'll put them in order once I've finished them all!**

**Current Tributes:**

**District One female- **Demetra Montgomery (Rosemarie Benson)

**District One male- **RESERVED (Kaden B)

**District Two female- **Isleen Muran (Mjg43)

**District Two male- **Hector Stone (Sparky She-Demon)

**District Three female- **Lacuna 'Luna' Winters

**District Three male-** Hex Heliot (Vaan Levi)

**District Four female- **Laryssa Kali (Mjg43)

**District Four male- **Trident Donovan (Sparky She-Demon)

**District Five female- **Phyllis Modula (Spacechupi)

**District Five male- **Kieran Lancer (Marinalvaro13)

**District Six female-** Myra Pendle (Coolcattime)

**District Six female- **Arun Oria (Coolcattime)

**District Seven female- **Orianna Meyers (KitCat6789)

**District Seven male- **Hunter Wills (KitCat6789)

**District Nine male- **Finn Ranger (ViRepublic)

**District Eleven female- **Cerise Trastamara (Spacechupi)

**District Twelve female-** Elizabeth 'Ellie' Woodland (Talorysim)

**District Twelve male-** Merlyn Dewey (Mjg43)

**I have finished the District 7, 6, 12, and 2 reapings. District 4, 3, & 5 reaping will be done soon! (Boy you guys are keeping me busy! I have _sooo_ many ideas for these tributes.**

**Read, submit, and review please, and thank you everyone who's submitted/will be submitting! This story wouldnot exist otherwise! :D **


	2. Prolouge

**GAMEMAKERS HEAD QUARTERS, PREPARING FOR THE 100TH HUNGER GAMES:**

"What's the news on the conditions this year?" the head game maker's lead assistant, Mary, asks. The head Gamemaker, David Mendez nods his head.

"They'll be reaped from the victors children." He says, not looking up from his frantic tapping on a glowing screen "If there are no children of age or in that district, then the mentor will hand pick them."

A man enters the room. Stephan Snow, Cornelious Snow's grandson, the president of Panem. The man asks quietly for the details everyone in the room has been working the past month on.

"This year, we're having a special arena…" he pauses again, enlarging the image he'd been tapping away at.

"The arena will consist of twenty different rings. Every night, the rings re-arrange themselves, ending in a different order than previously. The only one that stays the same is the cornucopia." He zooms in on the center ring, which is stacked high with items, medical supplies, non perishable food, matches, tents, etc. "The only weapons will be on the outer ring of the arena." He motions towards the outer ring, which is a frozen waste land "Each ring has their own climate. After the first week, they will begin to be destroyed. The outside island will be destroyed the first night, and then the next one, all in different ways, until only the center ring remains." The president nods, obviously pleased.

"I expect you've been working hard on plenty of surprises." The man's voice is sly and gravely. The head gamemaker smiles, tapping away once again, until an image pops up.

Everyone chatters simultaneously when they see the beast. They all agree it will be an excellent show this year. Yes, very excellent. The president smiles cruelly.

"Very good, David." The man says, striding out of the room.

The head gamemaker calls for a break, and the room empties, l;\eaving behind the single holorgraphic image of this year's special mutants.

On the screen is a divided picture, a wolf, and a human girl. The gamemakers call this new mutt the Wallowolf, it looks normal but it is deadly. It's claws are sharp enough to rip apart flesh on contact, it's strong enough to take on ten men at once. Before it attacks, it morphs to fit the appearance of the victims loved one.

A monster that would make any sane person run for their lives.

What better creature for the games?

* * *

**SYOT FORM:**

Name:

Gender:

Age:

District:

Appearance:

Personality:

Reaped or volunteered:

(If volunteered) Why:

Reaction to being reaped:

Talents, skills, etc.:

What do they do in training:

Interview angle:

Career?:

Alliances?:

Any other additional information?

***PM OR REVIEW FORMS WITH THIS INFORMATION***


	3. District 2 Reaping

**I'm sorry this chapter is up so much later than I intended it to be! I've had some pretty major writers block, but I had a bit of inspiration today, so I finished this chapter up! Enjoy!**

**Isleen Muran's POV:**

When my alarm goes off, I'm instantly awake. I know what today is. Reaping day. Today, I will volunteer, because my mother was a victor. And they killed my brother.

They shipped him off to help with something in the obliterated 13th district, and they sent him back in bits and pieces.

I scowl ferociously at my mirror as I run a brush roughly through my tangled red hair, dressed in black leggings, a red tanktop, and matching ballet flats. Red seems appropriate for the mood I'm in today.

I fly down the stairs of my family's small house into the kitchen, where my parents look up, startled by my presence.

"I'm going to volunteer today." I say, not looking at them. Instead, I focus on my nails, picking at their edges.

"What?" I can tell my father's staring at me, but I won't look up.

"You know what." I tell him calmly, done with my nails and now studying my shoes.

"Isleen, please." Surprised at the pleading note in my mother's voice, my resolve breaks and I glance up at her. She has tears in her eyes, but I can't force myself to look back down "We can't lose you, too." I'm appalled at her weakness.

"So I'm just supposed to sit here in my little protective bubble? Pretend what happened doesn't exist? I want to do something. I can't just sit here and be the victors daughter anymore." I say coldly, my voice breaking off at the end of my sentence.

"You can't, Is. Be reasonable, please?" I meet father's gaze dead on. I don't care if they're trying to protect me. I can take care of myself. It's not like I haven't been training like every other career. I'm smart, I'm fast. Why do they doubt me?

"Try and stop me." With that I turn away from them, slamming the door firmly behind me.

On my way to nowhere, I'm practically barreled over by my boyfriend, Kai.

"Woah, slow down, Is." He gives me a dashing smile, before is face darkens "So… you're going to volunteer, then?"

"Yeah." I say, meeting his eyes squarely. I'm not sure what he's thinking. All he does is nod.

"Okay. I've got to be going, though Is." He kisses me quickly and disappears down the street. I hesitate, wondering if I should call out to him. But he's already gone.

**Hector Stone's POV:  
**My alarm blares, and I yawn, reaching to shut it off. I glance at the digital clock, which reads ten thirty. Right, today's reaping day.

The scenario of my being reaped runs through my head. I've been trained just like any other kid, and when the announced the Quarter Quell, I knew my chances were high. There's about twenty eligible Victor's Children. Twenty.

If I'm reaped there is the decent chance of being volunteered for. But I've talked to the others. You'd think they would be overjoyed at this opportunity, but I know a lot of them are actually scared. Like me. We've all heard the stories, and whether the victors are careers or not, they always come back changed. Always.

After several more minutes of staring blankly at my ceiling, I finally manage to get out of bed, dressing in a collared shirt and jeans instead of my usual t-shirt. You're supposed to look nice after all.

I run my fingers through my reddish brown hair, cut short. I'm well-built and fairly tall at 5'11, with hazel eyes to go with my hair.

When I enter my kitchen, the smell of coffee is the first thing I notice. My mother sits at the table, reading a newspaper of all things. I find it odd they still make newspapers, considering there's at least fifty other ways to get the news.

Pushing this stray thought aside, I pour myself a cup of coffee, downing the whole thing in under three minutes, black.

"It's time to go." My mother says, setting her newspapers down and standing up, shoving reddish brown hair behind her ears.

I nod, still too out of it from just waking up, even after dumping coffee into me, to give a proper response. Or maybe I just don't feel like talking.

We leave the house, heading for the square amidst a steady stream of people. When it comes time for me to stand with the other seventeen years olds, every kid between twelve and eighteen are in the reaping sections, even though the tributes will only be reaped from the Victors' eligible children.

They show the annual video, to which a lot of people look uncomfortable and even _ashamed_ watching. The Quarter Quell conditions are also restated. When it's over, the escort, Saffra, smiles widely and creepily, really, her skin is dyed a deep blue, and her hair is dyed gold, which her dress matches.

"In honor of the Quarter Quell, the men will go first." Another creepy smile as she clicks on six inch heels over to the boys bowl, which contains less than ten slips. She doesn't bother digging through them, instead just plucking up the first one she comes into contact with.

"Hector Stone." She reads, her Capitol accent butchering my name.

I step through the parting crowd easily, leaving my face blank and my posture easy and natural, suppressing my terror. I can't show weakness in front of these people.

"Any volunteers?" The way too peppy for slaughter woman asks the crowd when I reach the stage. Nobody pipes up. There are only nine eligible kids, including me, and none of the remaining eight seem to feel like volunteering.

After a considerable silence, Saffra carries on, striding quickly to the girls' bowl, which holds more names than the boys, but still not many. She pulls one out, but before she can read the name on it, a voice cuts through the crowd.

"I volunteer." The crowd of eighteen year olds instantly parts, like the girl, who I don't know the name of, has some sort of disease.

She comes up to the stage to give her name.

"Isleen Muran." Her voice is empty of any emotion, but her eyes, which are a startling blue, are angry.

Saffra tells us to shake hands and we do, her grip on my own eerily strong. She's tall and fairly muscled, her hair down around her shoulders, slightly messy. I try not to think about how I might have to kill her.

My parents come to say goodbye to me. We don't talk about what just happened, just normal things, like how I'm doing in school, until finally, the peacekeepers come in to escort them out.

"I'll see you in a few weeks, Hector." It amazes me how much they think I'm going to comeback. I wonder how shocked they'll be if I actually _do_ die. I don't think they've even considered the possibility.

"Yeah." I say as they disappear out the door.

A few of my friends visit me as well, all of them with the same confident attitude as my parents.

They're not worried, so why am I?

**ISLEEN MURANS POV:**

We're led away to private rooms to say our goodbyes. I don't want to say goodbye to my family or to Kai, so I told them not to come. Thankfully, they don't. I hate goodbyes. They're too final.

Instead, I'm greeted with chains of people I know from school, telling me how brave I am, and how I have such a big chance to win. By the fifth person I'm already tired of it.

By the time my hour is up, all the visitations have blurred in my mind to the point where I'm not sure who actually came anymore.

They lead us to the train, and Hector and I both disappear into our separate compartments as soon as we're shown them, neither of us feeling particularly talkative.

**Sorry if this chapter is a little short! Review and submit, please! All the tributes I need are listed in the SYOT update chapter, so please submit!**


	4. District 6 Reaping

**DISTRICT 6 REAPING:**

**Myra Pendle's POV:**

I wake from my dream suddenly. It was all bright fields and happy people. When I sit up, I'm nailed with my reality, as I am every morning. This time, it's because of the fresh, purple and blue bruise on my right shoulder. I can thank one of the older boys for that. Of course, he wasn't caught. They never are.

I can't help but drift off back into my dream world, even though I'm supposed to be helping downstairs in the bakery. It doesn't matter anyways, because I'm startled back into focus once again by the creaking of my door.

My younger brother, Josh, pokes his head through the door. His eyes are blue, and his messy blonde hair falls into his eyes. He's like a carbon copy of my father.

"It's reaping day, Myra." He says simply, eyeing the bruises on my shoulders, but not saying anything. He pauses before leaving the room, staring at me for several long seconds. I begin to get annoyed. Why doesn't he leave already?

Finally, he turns and exits the room, shutting the door carefully and painfully slow behind him. I get up once he leaves and begin to get ready. I carefully slide on my favorite dress, it's long sleeved with a standard collar, soft cotton in a pretty blue-gray color.

I brush my hair in the mirror, leaving it down. I examine myself. My skin is pale and my eyes are a gray-blue combination, slightly darker, stormier, than that of the dress. My hair is dark brown, and goes in waves to my shoulders.

One might say I look pretty, if everyone didn't hate me.

I sigh to myself and head down the stairs from my family's apartment into our bakery. I leave through the door, and my parents say nothing about it.

I'm on my way towards my favorite spot in the entire district, My Tree. I pass several houses on my way there. Maybe I can get by without trouble.

This year, they're sending in the victor's children. And if your district doesn't have any? Then the Victors must hand pick the kids who go in. No living victors left? Then they pick randomly.

In our case, the most recent victor gets to pick. They've decided to keep it as surprise, and still have every child between 12 and 18 stand in the square. The victor will stand and read the names.

Suddenly, I'm pushed to the ground. I look to see the culprit. The same boy who punched me yesterday. He smirks at me. I'm heavily annoyed. Now, there's a stain on my favorite dress. I grit my teeth and stand back up, only to be shoved down _again_.

"You just gonna stand there and take it, Pendle?" The boy cocks his head to the side and his friends snicker.

I stand up for a second time, of course, and am shoved again. I don't even budge this time. I glare at him. If only… Why shouldn't I be able to give him a taste of his own medicine?

"Are you waiting for your friends to come help?" He speaks again, grabbing my chin roughly in his hand. I don't move, channeling my hatred into my eyes. They want me to move. They want me to fight back. So I won't. The boy releases my face.

"Right… I forgot you don't have any. Go on, find your little hidey hole to cry in, then." It happens so fast, I'm not even quite sure what took place.

The boy blinks dazedly at me. His nose is twisted at an odd angle, and blood streams down his face. I broke his nose. I'm pretty sure my own mouth is also hanging open. His friends gape as well. The boy raises a hand to his nose, and wipes away some of the blood.

"You… You b-" I never hear him finish that statement. I practically fly away from them, they have no chance of catching me, or figuring out where I'm going. Even so, I take twisted routes until I reach my safe haven.

I scurry up the sixty feet high tree, taking longer than usual because I'm wearing a dress. My hands automatically clench into fists when I reach the branch I always sit on. When I'm angry, I'm usually smart about it. Not today.

I slam my fist into the trunk of the tree, not even wincing at the pain. Then I look down at my now bloody hand, and sigh. I feel like screaming. Like punching the tree again. Like going and punching the boy again.

Instead, I prop my head against the trunk of the tree, and fall asleep.

**Arun Oria's POV:**

The first thing I notice when I wake up is the bright sunlight shining directly onto my face. Momentarily, I panic over being late. Then, I remember it's reaping day. And I panic even more.

Instead of burying myself deep into my covers, I get shakily out of bed. I hate reaping day. Especially how they turn it into something of a game show, to go along with the Hunger Games. You get drawn to be in a fight in the death with twenty-three other children? Congratulations, grand prize winner!

I can't help but smile at the ridiculous thought, but it is quickly replaced once more with a frown. What if I get picked? Or one of my friends?

No one can volunteer, because the mentors are picking the tributes, this year. Great, they get to pick kids to coach and watch die. The sarcastic voice in my head chimes again.

I dress in one of my decent pairs of jeans and a green collared shirt. I don't bother running a brush through my hair.

I pad quietly, in case my mother's still sleeping, into the kitchen, but of course, she isn't. Instead, she has a small breakfast made of brown tesserae grain and some meat.

"Good morning, Arun." My mother embraces me, ruffling my hair and passing me a bowl of grain mush and meat.

"Thanks." I mutter gratefully, the first spoonful already half in my mouth. My mother laughs airily.

"You don't need to inhale it." She turns and begins to eat her own bowl.

My mother doesn't say anything, but I can tell she's just as nervous as I am. But really, it's not like the mentor would pick me, we haven't ever met her.

"I'll be ok, mom." I assure her, standing up from my empty bowl. She just nods again.

When she's finished eating as well, she looks up at me.

"It's twelve thirty." Is all she says, and I nod. We leave for the town square.

They prick my finger, and I'm filtered in with all the other sixteen year olds. I spot my best friends in the crowd, Burton and Weft. They wave half-heartedly. Another person I notice, is a short-ish girl over by the fourteen years olds.

Why? Because the sleeve and skirt of her dress are torn. There's blood on her right sleeve, and the corresponding hand is red and cut. Her hair is messed, and around her, is an empty area of about three feet. I don't know her name.

When I've finished pondering about the unknown girl, I look for my mother in the crowd of thousands. After a few minutes, I give up. I'm turning back to the front when I catch a pair of light green eyes, like grass, exactly like my own.

My mother stands in the midst of a crowd of loud, talking women. She waves at me and smiles, pieces of her hair, which is a shade of brown several shades lighter than my own, falling out of her hair.

I turn back to face the front when a woman, who is completely silver, skin, hair and dress, speaks into the microphone.

"Welcome to the 4th Quarter Quell reaping!" Her voice is startlingly deep, and it almost causes me to burst out laughing. Several others have a similar reaction, and a few actually _do_ start laughing. "This year, as you already know, for your district, the most recent victor has chosen the tributes by hand. Give a warm welcome to Mana Overlyn!"

A woman, maybe twenty, steps shakily up to the microphone, red hair in a ponytail, brown eyes wide. In her hand, she clutches two pieces of papers.

"Th-the male tribute." She stutters out, taking one of the pieces of paper and opening it. "Arun Oria." I freeze momentarily, terrified. Did I hear that right? Me? Why me? I don't even know the victor!

As I approach the stage silently, I do not look at my mother, nor my friends. One thought runs through my mind. I am going to die. I will die soon. I am going to die. Sooner, rather than later. A single tear drips down my face, and I wipe it away as I mount the stage.

"The fe-female tribute." The woman's shaky voice says again, her eyes directed down at her shoes.

**Myra Pendle's POV:**

When I hear my name, I jump, glancing upward. I hadn't been paying attention. I stare at the shaky woman on the stage, and at the boy who stands to her side, who has cropped dark brown hair and olive toned skin.

"Go on, Pendle." A voice snickers from behind me, shoving me forward so that I stumble. I want to scream again. I want to cry. A choked sound escapes my throat, before I shut it down, continuing swiftly onto the stage in case anyone else gets ideas.

What a plot twist. It's a shame I hadn't thought of it.

"Shake hands you two!" The escort says. I realize she has an oddly deep voice. I shake hands with the boy across from me, who's face has a hint of a smile on it.

In the private room, my family comes to visit. They all have tears in their eyes, and they all want hugs. I however, do not want to do anything. Which includes crying. So instead of balling with them, and telling them how scared I am, I embrace each member of my family in turn, and tell them reassurances.

This seems to cheer them up considerably, considering how rarely I'm willing to speak at all. When the peacekeepers come, they take my family out and lead me to the train.

**Arun Oria's POV:  
**My mother comes to visit me. She cries while I try to calm her down. I'm not doing a very good job, because I know she's crying for a very reasonable cause. When I'm gone, she'll be alone.

I promise her I'll win, even though my thoughts betray my words. How can I kill someone? The girl, Myra, seemed so… tired. Like she was ready to die. How can I kill someone who should be able to live?

I swallow down my nausea through my visits. My best friends enter.

"You've got a really good chance." Weft assures me

"Yeah, I know." Burton nods in agreement, and we exchange goodbyes.

On the train, we're shown our compartments. Myra ducks into hers immediately, slamming the cushioned sliding door as loud as she can manage. I slip into my own room.

At least the rooms are nice.

What an uncomforting thought. I'll die, but before hand, I get to sleep in a lavish room. Wonderful.

**A/N: Yay! Tribute submissions! I will put all the reapings etc. in order when they're all finished, btw. I'm going to have a hard time killing any of the tributes... *sigh* Anyways, I keep the SYOT chapter up to date on what tributes I have, and what tributes I need!**

**Review please!**


	5. District 7 Reaping

**Hey guys! This is the first reaping chapter, which is for District seven (Which is the only district I have both tributes for)**

**Orianna Myer's POV:**

My alarm blares loudly in my ears. I smake it hard enough to make my hand ache, but it goes off. I don't move from my bed, I just stare at the blank ceiling. I don't have to get up yet. Today is reaping day, one of the only days I get to sleep in.

At the cost of a possible death sentence, of course.

I close my eyes again, ready to block out everything for a while more. Instead I'm woken with a loud knock on my door.

"Ori! You can't sleep _all _day! You promised me we'd gather some stuff before we have to be at the square." She's referring to our usual routine. District seven was responsible for lumber, probably because the district's lined with acres upon acres of thick trees. Every morning for the last three years, we go and gather/hunt.

No one ever really misses us, the fence is always off, because it's too dangerous to keep it on when the lumber jacks are working so close.

"Do I have to?" I mutter, still staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, my door bursts open, and I'm greeted by my tall, dark haired, eyes, and skinned friend.

"Yes you have to. Now come on. I'll be downstairs." She gives my arm a hard tug before leaving the room, sending me off balance, and spilling towards the floor.

"Not cool!" I catch myself hastily on the bedframe before I can hit the floor.

I'm still grumbling when I pull myself up and head to my small dresser. I pull on a black tanktop and a pair of ripped- from weeks of abuse in the woods- black skinny jeans. I'm not big on bright color, and you may think this sounds emo, you know, I don't actually care, but black is really my color.

I brush my short, dark red hair, which is cut spiky at the ends. It used to be blonde…

I steer away from that train of thought, heading down the stairs.

**Hunter Wills' POV:**

"Hunter!" my younger sister, Macy, squeals, jumping on top of me.

"Morning…" I mutter, rubbing sleep from my eyes. Her hair is done in twin braids, framing her small face and blue eyes.

I glance at the clock. I instantly realize it's eight thirty, and I'm late to school. I shoot straight up, surprising Macy and nearly knocking her off.

"Sorry, Mace." I mutter, lifting her off me and getting out of bed "I'm late. Wait, shouldn't you be at school?" I pause, looking at her face, which grows considerably darker.

"It's Reaping Day, Hunter." She says, looking down at her feet.

"Oh." I say dumbly, remembering. We have no living victors in our district, so they're drawing the names like they always do. Though, there is no tesserae this year. My name is in six times, because I am seventeen.

"Well, go head into the kitchen okay? Is mom up yet?" she nods, leaving my room and shutting the door behind her.

I quickly change into my standard t-shirt and jeans. I never dress up for the reaping. It's stupid, and I've never gotten into trouble for it. Probably because the nicest most people have is similar to this. I run a brush momentarily through my short, messy black hair, which is the same color as my sisters.

When I head downstairs, my mother and sister are eating cooked roots, which I traded for yesterday.

I consider going hunting today, then quickly rule it out. The place is crawling with peacekeepers, and going out by the fence when no lumbermen are working just looks suspicious. My sister eats her last bite, than turns towards me, grabbing my hand tightly.

"What if you get picked." She says, like she does every year. I smooth her hair down and give her a smile.

"I won't be, Macy. Don't worry, okay?" She smiles back hesitantly and wraps her arms tight around me.

I glance at my mother, who's focusing on the hem of her sleeve. She's blonde and pale skinned, with amber brown eyes. Me and Macy both have the hair and eye colors of our father.

"I'll be fine, mom. I always am." She gives me a ghost of a smile

"Could you go trade some of the medicines I have whipped up?" she asks, diverting the conversation like she so often does

"Sure." She passes me a case off the table, which is filled with various herbal mixtures.

I tuck it carefully under my arm and head out the door, telling them goodbye as I go.

Orianna's POV:  
Amity smiles nervously when I enter the kitchen.

"You know you're supposed to dress up, Ori." She rolls her eyes at me, tossing a slice of bread in my direction, which I catch easily. I take a large hunk out of the piece, scowling.

"Since when have I ever dressed up?"

"That's a good point. Come on, you can eat while we walk."

We leave my small house, heading towards the fence. We get a few strange looks, but no one approaches us. We leave the occupied part of the town, and enter the long stretch of grass and pathways that make way towards our favorite spot to enter the woods.

It's about four hundred yards from the entrance to the lumber working yard, and we both slip under the fence easily, as it's gone loose after so many years.

"I'll hunt, you gather." I tell her simply, even though I don't need too.

Amity is a whiz with plants, she can almost instantly tell you whether something's poisonous, edible, or had medicinal properties. Also, she may be my best friend, but she makes a horrible hunting partner. She's too loud, and too inaccurate with her knife.

She retrieves her knife and I retrieve my bow, from our hiding place in a dead tree, covered by a screen of hanging moss. It's convienent, really. The tree is easily seventy feet high, and six times wider than I am, so we're not really afraid of it coming down.

I hunt quietly and systematically, and in the first our, I've downed three rabbits, a squirrel, and five birds I can't identify, but look like they'd make a good meal. I've just put the squirrel into my gamebag when I hear excited whoops.

I sprint quickly, I happen to be quite fast, and enter a slightly overgrown clearing, which is filled with wild strawberries, full in bloom.

"Man, this is the jackpot!" Amity says excitedly, quickly beginning to harvest. I set my game bag on the ground an begin to help her.

By the time we're finished, we have six quarts of strawberries, five birds, three rabbits, a squirrel and an abundance of assorted edible plants.

We silently stash our weapons back, and head towards the square. Technically, hunting is illegal, but no one really cares. In fact, several people smile at us as we pass.

There's a trading center in an open apothecary shop, which happens to be the largest one in town, and Amity and I enter it.

"I need some medicine for my sister." Amity tells me, and I nod as she goes off to the actual apothecary shop counter, and talking to a boy there, with short, messy black hair. He looks vaguely familiar, and for some reason, I get the feeling that he keeps looking at me.

I shrug it off. I trade about half of the plants and strawberries, one of the rabbits, and three of the birds, getting a few things I need, and the few things Amity told me to get for her.

Amit returns, holding a small container of medicine tightly in her hand.

"Let's go." I tell her, and we leave the apothecary shop.

Hunter's POV:

At one o' clock, I head to the town square. I let them prick my finger and take my name before heading off with the other seventeen year olds.

I spot several of my friends, who wave nervously. I wave back but they're not who I'm really looking for. My eyes fall on Orianna, who stands next to a dark skinned girl who talks loudly. I watch her for a few seconds until her eyes dart upward at mine, and I quickly look away.

I have an odd curiosity about Orianna, who never talks to anyone but her best friend Amity, who scraes the living day lights out of every by in the school, and who died her golden, brown-blonde hair dark red after whole family died.

My thoughts are interrupted by the squealing of a microphone.

A captiol woman, District 9's escort, smiles brightly. She wears a bright yellow dress, which have patches of… toothpicks? Sewn onto it. Okay, that is a little odd.

"Welcome! To the District Nine Reaping for the Fourth Quarter Quell." She begins in a ridiculous and overly peppy capitol accent.

The video they show every year is shown, along with a reading of part of the Treaty of Treason. I tune it out, it's the same crap every year.

"And now," the woman "We will draw this years District 7 tributes, since there are no living tributes." Our only living tribute before the second rebellion, Johanna Mason, was killed because of her role in it.

"In honor of the Quarter Quell, the gentlemen will go first." The odd woman smiles brightly and sticks her hand in the boys' bowl, digging around for a few minutes until she draws out one slip of paper.

She open it slowly, trying to build suspense.

"Hunter Wills." She reads aloud. I freeze where I am.

Several people turn to look at me, then part so I can pass. What a stroke of luck. The year I have my name in the least amount of times, when only the victors children are supposed to go in, I get drawn.

I walk slowly forward, mounting the stage.

"Do I have any volunteers?" I notice my mother has tears in her eyes, and she's holding my frantic little sister tightly. No one volunteers. Not that I expect them to.

**Orianna's POV:**

The boy from the apothecary shop has been reaped. Right, his name is Hunter. I remember him trying to talk to me on my way to the fence. I turned him down flat.

"And now for the ladies." I can hear the sobbing of a small child from somewhere in the crowd behind us. The escort is dressed awfully, with equally awful make up and an equally awful wig.

"I think that's below even the Capitol's standards." My best friend jokes beside me. I smile at her attempt. I think she's about to say something else when a name is read a loud. The girls name must've already been picked.

"Amity Fenton." My blood runs cold, and Amity turns very, very pale beside me. She parts through the crowd on her way to the stage. Amity, the only friend I've ever had. Was it really possible for the world to be this cruel?

"I volunteer!" I shout, just before she steps onto the stage. I shove my way through the people who do not move fast enough. I'm not going to lose the last person I care about, not when I can stop it.

The Capitol woman smiles and waves me up, sending a stunned Amity back to her spot.

"What's your name, dear?"

"Orianna Meyer." I say confidently, keeping my head held eye and my face blank of emotion.

"Give it up for the District 7 4TH Quarter Quell tributes! Shake hands, you two." Me and Hunter shake hands, and then we're brought to private rooms for our goodbyes.

Amity enters quietly.

"Why did you volunteer, Ori?" she asks sadly. I don't look at her.

"You know why. You have a family, friends other than me. It's not like I could watch the only other person I care about in the world get slaughtered." I meet her eyes

"I could've survived if I went in."

"Are you saying I can't?" I smile faintly at her and raise my eyebrows.

"I guess you do have a good chance." She says, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

I know Amity wouldn't have made it past the bloodbath. She cares too much about people.

We say a few more things to each other, and I hug her goodbye before the peacekeeper comes in. He doesn't sya anything about the fact that I have no more visitors.

**Hunter's POV:**

My sister clings tight to me, still sobbing, when they come to say goodbye.

"You said they wouldn't pick you!" she repeats, as she has every minute or so. I squeeze her tightly and smooth her hair. My mother is no longer crying, but she looks very much on the verge of it.

"I'll be back, Macy. I promise. I'll only be gone for a few weeks, just wait." Macy's sobbing stops momentarily.

"Promise?" I nod

"Pinky Promise?" she adds, holding out her pinky.

"Pinky Promise." I repeat and she hugs me again before the peacekeeper comes in and takes my family away.

A few of my friends come to say good bye. My dad doesn't. I was hoping he would, but he didn't.

After a few more minutes, the peacekeepers come and escort me out. We meet up with Orianna, who I can't help but sneak glances at, wondering what she's thinking. I learn our escorts name is Piper, which I find slightly ironic, with all the insane amounts of talking she does.

We're led onto the train and shown our rooms by an avox girl. I sigh at nothing and everything as I enter.

**A/N: Please keep submitting tributes! I keep the SYOT update chapter well, updated with the current status of the tributes. **


	6. District 12 Reaping

**Elizabeth Woodland's POV:**

I wake to a knock on my door.

"Ellie?" My older sister, Kiran's, voice wafts through the door. "It's reaping day."

I don't say anything, and she doesn't expect me to, and I slide out of bed as I hear her footsteps receding.

I change out of my pajyamas and into a simple white dress, the skirt is made of a flowing material that goes just past my knees. It was my sisters, and before that my mothers. I leave my long black hair, which goes two or three inches past my shoulder, down, and I study my silver eyes in the mirror.

Today, I will be reaped for the Hunger Games. The Quarter Quell, to be exact. For our district, the oldest mentor is picking the tributes, something I _know_ they did on purpose.

And who's the oldest mentor of District 12? Haymitch Abernathy. A lonely, slightly phsycotic drunk that had been teaching me to fight for three years now, since I was thirteen.

I wonder why they let him live. They killed them all, every last one of the victors who'd been associated with the second rebellion, even those who _weren't _ apart, or weren't even victors. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, Johanna Mason, Finnick Odair, even Gale Hawethorn.

There was no mercy. Save for Haymitch. And he told me I was going in. He didn't tell me who I was going in with.

I sigh and blink several times, long and slow, before heading down the short hallway into our kitchen/dining room area. Our family is lucky, my father owns the best apothecary shop in the District. And, he has two daughters more than willing to help him gather supplies.

The first thing that happens when I enter the room is my sister's voice, piping from her mouth full of edible plant roots, fried.

"Can I do your hair, Ellie?" She says, like she always does on reaping day. And I always tell her yes. Well, I don't _tell_ her. I don't speak. I haven't since three years ago, when my mother died. Instead, I nod unnescesarily, because my sister stands anyways, picking a single hair pin off the table.

She braids the front portions of my hair, and pins the braid back. When she finishes, she smiles and gives me a hug.

My family's not worried. Why would they be? We don't know the mentor. They don't know the mentor. They don't know I've been training. And I'm not going to tell them. Why spoil the time I have left?

I eat my breakfast, and help my father clean up the mess he made last night when making some medicinal paste, I think it was for headaches.

"Ellie, dear? Do you want to go with your sister into the woods? She told me she found a nice strawberry patch." I give my father a smile and a nod.

I love the woods. My sister loves the woods as well, consequently. It's the only place you can hear my voice. I sing, when I'm by myself, or in the woods. I don't speak, but I sing. I don't know how this happened.

I've tried, I really have, to answer when my father asks me how I'm doing, to respond when my sister talks about her friends. But I just can't make myself do it.

I nod happily at my father, and hug him, like nothing is wrong. I am an excellent liar, for someone who doesn't speak.

**Merlyn Dewey's POV:**

"You have to get up." Poke "Come on, Mer." Poke poke "I'll come back in here with a cup of water, Merlyn!"

I groan and sit up. I had unsuccessfully tried to avoid waking up. I glance at my twin brother, Lyam. We're identical, same green with tints of blue eyes, same slightly-curly light brown hair, same olive colored skin.

"It's reaping day, isn't it?" I mutter, getting out of bed.

"Yeah. Don't worry, bro. The mentor's picking the tributes this year."

"The drunk guy?"

"Yep." I shake my head, praying for the poor souls that get stuck with that guy as their mentor. "Mom wants your down soon. It's already twelve." He walks out of the room and I sigh, changing into nice slacks and a collared white shirt. Reaping clothes.

One good thing about reaping day is it's the one day a year where I get to sleep in. Otherwise, I'd be up at six, to go to school, or help at my mother's small store. Let me tell you, I am _not_ a morning person.

I spend about three seconds running my fingers through my hair before heading into the kitchen.

"So who do you think's going in?" My brother says, nibbling on a roll. I shrug.

"No clue."

"I hear Abernathy told the girl she was going in already." I find this interesting. If I was going into the games, would I want to know before hand, or right when it happens? My brother shakes his head "I think I'd rather it be a surprise, if it was me. There'd be no 'you're going to be sent off to get slaughtered in three weeks' pity party awkwardness." My brother grins and I snort. Leave it to Lyam to turn a completely humorless situation into a joke.

"Think it'll be anyone we know?" I ask him, grabbing a roll for myself. He shrugs

"Hope not. District 12's huge, it's unlikely they'll even be our age." I nod, and we sit in silence until we have to go, stuffing the last bit of the roll into my mouth.

At the square, they prick my finger and I'm flooded with the crowd into the area for sixteen year olds, Lyam right beside me.

"Check it out." My brother whispers, jerking a finger in the direction of the sixteen year old girls. At one in particular.

I roll my eyes. Lyam has a huge crush on Elizabeth Woodland, even though no one's ever heard her utter a word to anybody. He doesn't seem to really care. She glances over at us, seeming to notice our staring. More of Liam's staring, really.

I nearly jump at the sudden eye contact. Her eyes are a startling silver color. Lyam sighs beside me.

"I wonder why she doesn't talk." He says more to himself, but I answer anyways.

"Maybe she doesn't like the sound of her voice." He rolls his eyes at me and punches my arm

"Welcome!" A high pitched voice says suddenly, combined with a loud squeaking from the mic. They sound very similar.

District 12's escort for the past five years has been Clio. I have no idea what her last name is. I find her really creepy. Her eyes are a very odd violet pink, and her hair and skin are dyed a matching shade. She wears pale pink dress with a variety of pink make up. Lyam shudders next to me.

"That woman is horrifying." He whispers. I smile barely as they play the same video they do every year, and read the same part of the treaty of treason they do every year, with a small section added in about this year's Quarter Quell circumstances.

"Please welcome, Haymitch Abernathy!" The awful woman in pink trills, as an old and tired looking man steps to the microphone, holding two slips of paper.

He doesn't look drunk, but you can definitely tell he's had his share of happy juice in this lifetime.

"The female tribute," Haymitch pauses looking out into the crowd, and I could've sworn he was looking towards the sixteen year olds when he says "Elizabeth Woodland."

Cue the stunned silence. My brother freezes next to me, and every pair of eye's bore into the silent girls back. She stares at her feet as she mounts the steps and takes her place beside Haymitch. The girl who no one remembers hearing speak, is being sent to slaughter.

"What's your name again, dear?" The pink woman smiles brightly, and I feel like throwing something at her.

I don't think she's going to respond at first, she never has before, but she does.

"Elizabeth Woodland." The girl says, smoothly, calmly. She knew this was going to happen. I don't think anyone, amidst the kids at least, is breathing. They're all just staring at the tall for her age girl, who just said her name. Suddenly she scowls at the crowd.

"You can quit gawking now." She says, returning her gaze to her feet, her lips making no attempt to move any longer.

"The male tribute," Haymitch continues, glancing at the Elizabeth. "Merlyn Dewey."

Every head swivels in my direction, as I make my way to the other side of Haymitch on the stage. For a second, I think I might cry, but I don't. Instead, I stand there, staring at the crowd when the pink monster speaks once more

"Shake hands, you two!" I shake hands with the silent, black haired girl across from me, and we're led away to private rooms.

**Elizabeth Woodland's POV:  
**In the private rooms for visiting, I hug my sister tightly, as tears roll down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Ellie. I'm so, so sorry." She says over and over.

"It's okay." I tell her. I feel the need to speak to them. I have to, this could be the last time I ever see them.

A ghost of a smile sits on my father's face as he listens to me soothe my sister. When she's finally calmed down, slightly, I hug my father.

"I'll win, you know." I tell him.

"I know you will, Ellie." Finally, my family leaves and someone else enters the room.

I recognize him, a boy with green eyes and curly brown hair, who looks identical to the boy tribute. He was staring at me earlier. I'm not sure why he's here, I don't even know his name.

"Hi." He says, scratching the back of his neck "Um, I'm Lyam."

"Ellie." I respond softly, even though I already know he knows who I am.

"I just… Kind of wanted to say good luck. You probably don't really know me. I think you can win." The boy smiles half heartedly and I return the gesture.

"Well, thanks. I won't go down without a fight."

"I guess that's mildly comforting." And I do something strange, something I haven't done in three years. I laugh.

**Merlyn Dewey: **

My mother wanted to say goodbye separate from my brother. There was a lot of crying. A lot, a lot of crying. From both me and her. I hate seeing my mother cry, it's one of the worst things in the world. I tell her repeatedly I'll win and come back.

After several minutes, she leaves, and my brother comes in, a faint smile on his lips. He face changes very, very, suddenly. From semi-peacful, to angry, in a second.

"Why did he pick you? He doesn't even know us!" My brother says angrily. I shrug, because I don't know. He looks like he wants to do something, but doesn't know what.

"I feel like punching something." He mutters, which is followed by his fist hitting the fluffy white couch.

"This sucks." I say simply.

"Yeah. You have a good chance of winning, Mer. You're like, super smart. And you're fast."

"Did you go see her?" I bring up the only other topic I can think of, not wanting to talk about the Hunger Games anymore, just something _normal_.

A goofy look passes over his features for a second, then an angry look, and the two seem to switch back and forth.

"Yeah. She has a nice laugh." I smile at my brother, pretending we're talking normally, and that I won't be heading to the Capitol in less than 15 minutes.

For the next couple minutes, I keep the conversation about normal things, school, sports, etc. Until, he has to leave.

"You'll win, I know it." My brother says confidently, clapping me on the back.

With that, he's gone, and me and Elizabeth are led to the train, where we're shown our compartments, in which I fall asleep in almost instantly, even though I'm not the least bit tired.

**A/N: Thanks for all the tribute submits! Total, I only need 11 more! Submit, review, and enjoy!**


	7. District 4 Reaping

**LARYSSA KALI'S POV:**

I wake to the blaring of my alarm clock. I sigh, sliding out of bed and shivering when my bare feet touch the cold wooden floor. My clock reads six am. Then, I remember. Today is reaping day.

I sigh again, crawling back into bed, mad at myself for forgetting to turn off my alarm last night. I try to go back to sleep, but I know I won't be able to.

Today, my name will go in the reaping for the first time. My grandmother was a Victor. I never knew her, they let her live after the rebellion. Her and her son, my father. She went insane a year or two later, and disappeared.

After twenty minutes, I give up on finding sleep again, deciding instead to pick up where I left off in my book.

"Laryssa?" My mother's voice is accompanied by a knock on my door. I notice it's now eleven o'clock, and I feel a little disgruntled to barely have made a dent in my new book.

"I'm getting up." I call, and walk over to my closet, pulling out a white dress that goes to my shins. I slide it over my head, also grabbing a pair of white sandals to go with it.

In my mirror, I run a brush through my wavy hair, braiding part of it and letting it hang with the rest of my hair.

I slide on the sandals before leaving my room and heading downstairs. We, of course, live in the Victor's Village, a neighborhood with thirty nice houses, almost mansions.

When I walk into the kitchen, my little brother is shoveling rice krispies into his mouth with gusto. I ruffle his hair affectionately, much to his dismay. He scowls and sticks his tongue out at me.

I pour myself my own bowl of cereal, stirring it around idly, nerves diminishing my appetite significantly.

"Are you worried, Lyssa?" I shake my head and give him a bright smile. Most people call me Lyssa, a nick name I actually got from Jasper, my little brother. He couldn't pronounce the 'ar' in my name right, so he just cut it out entirely.

I _am_ worried, but there's no way I'm going to tell my seven year old brother that. The odds are not in my favor, really. Districts 1, 2, 3, 4, 8, 9, and 10 are the only Districts with eligible children. District Two has the most, followed by 1, District four, three, and so on.

There are only 14 eligible tributes total. Four of them are girls, and one of them is my best friend, Mayra, who's sick. She only last month was allowed off from bed rest.

By the end of breakfast, my stomach is churning with nerves, and the little cereal I did shove down. On our way to the square, I'm afraid I might actually throw up.

**TRIDENT DONOVAN'S POV:**

I'm not sure what wakes me up, but it's already twelve. I worry in my sleepy haze for a few seconds that I'm really, really late for school and have already missed training. Still, when I realize it's reaping day instead, I'm out of bed in a flash. We have to leave at twelve thirty. I hurriedly throw on a collared shirt and clean jeans, running my fingers through my sandy brown hair and rubbing sleep from my hazel colored eyes.

Downstairs, I'm greeted by a full table, my mother, father, and all five of my siblings are eating breakfast. I consider asking them why they didn't wake me up before, but decide it isn't worth it.

Only me and two siblings, my twelve year old sister (Aya) and fifteen year old brother (Sal), are eligible out of the six of us. I'm the oldest, at seventeen, and my three year old sister, Kara, is the youngest. My other two brothers, Roy and Aure, aren't twins, but they might as well be- they're nearly identical, and separated by only ten months.

I sit next to my father, not eating much. I'm nervous, for myself and my siblings. I know if Sal gets reaped, I won't hesitate to volunteer, but Aya…

When twelve thirty strolls around, we leave the house, and I notice Aya is visibly shaking. I put a hand on her shoulder

"You'll be fine, Aya." I'm glad I sound confident and unwavering, not nervous and worried like I am. She nods and gives me a small smile, braids swaying.

**LAYRSSA KALI'S POV:**

They prick my finger and I stand in a roped off area with all the other fourteen year old girls. Every kid between twelve and eighteen is in their prospective area, even though they can't even be reaped. I find it kind of comforting, really, safety in numbers, right?

I wave at Mayra, who smiles weakly and wave back.

They play the video about Panem rising out of the ashes from what was North America, how the thirteen districts started an uprising, and the thirteenth district was obliterated. There is also a part added in about the second rebellion, about how the Captiol was 'forced' to 'show no mercy' after this second war.

They restate the Quarter Quell conditions, and the mayor introduces this year's escort, someone new, a man named Phlox, with awful bright, pinkinsh-purple colored hair and a matching pinstripe suit.

"In honor of the Quarter Quell, gentlemen will go first." Phlox's voice is oddly high pitched, for a guy. He walks over to the boys' bowl, and plucks out a slip. After all, there are only ten slips.

"Trident Donovan." A boy from the seventeen year olds' section comes up to the stage. He's tall and broad, with sandy brown hair, hazel eyes, and the bronze skin nearly everyone in District Four shares. He looks friendly, really.

"And now the ladies." A purple dressed man with a high pitched voice and a Capitol accent is a funny thing, and if this were a different situation, I might be laughing. I can't even make myself smile.

"Mayra Clemons." I freeze as Mayra walks bravely up to the stages, wincing when she has to limp, making her look small and scared.

"I volunteer!" I shout loudly, to make sure I'm heard, as if I'm not loud enough, they'll take her away to her death anyways.

The crowd parts and I walk to the stage, hiding my utter terror, but giving Mayra a small smile when she passes me on her way off the stage.

"What's your name, miss?" I have to suppress a laugh. Though I couldn't smile before, I feel utterly like laughing now. I might not be able to anymore by this day next week.

"Laryssa Kali." I say solidly, taking my place on stage across from Trident Donovan, trying to ignore the crying in the crowd I recognize as my brothers.

We shake hands, and we're led off to private rooms.

The first people to come say goodbye are my parents and my brother. Jasper's still crying and my parents are stony faced. My mother's eyes are glassy.

It's scary, seeing them like this. I spend my time with them calming my brother and reassuring them that I'll come back.

I have a good shot, I guess. I did get training like every other kid in 4. I can use a bow and a knife, I'm fast, silent, and good at hiding. I could do this.

When my family leaves, my father has a small smile on his face, my mother looks less like a zombie, and my brother has stopped crying. I feel accomplished, having completed these simple tasks.

Mayra comes in next, her eyes are also filled with tears.

"What if you die Lyssa?"

"I won't, I have a good chance, I'll come back. Who knows, with all the money I win, maybe they'll have medicine to help you I can buy." I give her a smile

"I'm doomed anyways, Lys."

"You have a chance." My voice is unwavering but gentle, leaving no room for argument "You'd die for sure in the games." She goes silent for a few moments, knowing I'm right.

I give my best friend a hug, reassuring myself that I'd volunteered for a worthwhile cause. Mayra deserves to live, and I'm not going to let a stupid game take that away from her.

"Watch over Jasper for me, okay?" I don't have to say what I'm implying "Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid like volunteering, okay?"

She nods and I let her go, because time is up, and the peacekeepers return to take her away.

**TRIDENT DONOVAN'S POV:**

My parents come to say goodbye first. They wish me good luck and hug me goodbye, and my brothers come in.

"Don't worry." Roy says

"Yeah, we know you'll win." Aure adds. After a few minutes, I send them back out and turn to talk to Sal.

"Let them watch as little as possible, okay?" My younger brother studies me for a few seconds, before sighing slowly

"Are you planning on coming back?"

"As we speak." I give him a confident grin and he nods, satisfied.

When my sisters come in, Aya's crying, and Kara's blissfully, thankfully, too young to understand. I comfort Aya as best as I can, and talk to Kara a bit, smiling at her slightly jumbled toddler talk.

When time's up, my sisters are led away, and Kara bursts into tears, calling for me. Aya picks her up and leaves the room, tears already starting again in her eyes.

**LARYSSA KALI'S POV:**

We're led to a train and shown our compartments, which Trident and I leave for immediately.

I go to sleep with the same thought running over again through my mind:

I have to win.


End file.
